The Job
by HughSoSexy
Summary: "All he could do was stand there. Helpless. He had no power to help her, and she knew it." Rated for language and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: This is really far outside anything I've written to this point, but I also think it has the most potential as far as longevity goes. Give it a try, please. And if you find errors along the way, I apologize. It's 3AM here._**

**_One more note - I didn't start watching the show til season 2. So if things are a little...off...that's why. That should make more sense as you read on._**

**_Disclaimer: All the characters you've never heard of are mine. The rest, sadly, are not._**

* * *

She felt blood dripping out of her nose and felt yet another blow to her once gorgeous face. Her head was so fuzzy she wasn't even sure she was still in the same building. She glanced up through her eye that wasn't swollen shut to see the same wrecked red car she remembered seeing on the way in. Yes, she was in the same place. And at least she could hear his voice.

"STOP! What do you want? Look!" he yelled as he yanked his shirt up and spun around. "No wire! No wire, no gun, no weapon, no cops."

Once again, the man by the red car cocked his fist and hit her, and this time she cried out in pain. She'd been hit so many times she was nearly numb, but she felt that one.

"Bloody fuckin' hell," Cal said as he felt all hope draining from his body. He was desperate to make this stop. "Please stop!" he nearly screamed at the top of his lungs. Then he continued more calmly seeing he had everyone's attention. "No one knows I'm here. There's no calvary comin'. There's no threat here to you. Just stop. She's had enough, yeah?"

With that, the man sent Gillian one more blow that laid her flat on the ground where she'd been previously kneeling. "I'll say when she's had enough. You got it?"

Cal glared at the man hovering over Gillian's limp body and wished looks could kill.

The man pulled his fist back and repeated himself more loudly, "I said, You got it?"

Raising his hands up begging him not to hit her again, Cal replied, "Yeah, I got it. You're the boss."

"Actually, I'm the boss." A second voice, thick with a Russian accent, came from Cal's left, and a man with slicked back black hair and a suit to match walked out from the shadows.

Cal's eyes were glued to the man as he walked toward Gillian. He wanted to do something, anything to get them out of this situation, but there were too many of them. Three more in addition to the two he'd already been acquainted with. And those three had guns.

Cal's heart started to beat wildly as the suit got nearer to her. He leaned down, grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled her face off the floor. She whimpered at the pain, but it was nothing compared to how the rest of her felt.

"Shame," the suit said. "She was so pretty. Look what you made us do to her." He pushed her head back toward the floor.

Gillian found the strength to turn her head toward Cal, and it was only then that he saw the extent of her injuries. One eye was swollen shut and had a cut above it. Her cheeks were each covered in bruises, and one had a deep gash on it. Her lip was split, and her nose was bleeding. He wasn't sure, but it looked like the arm facing him might have been broken. All he could do was stand there. Helpless. He had no power to help her, and she knew it. He felt suddenly sick.

As the suit walked back toward Cal across the cold cement floor of the warehouse he said, "I don't think we've been properly introduced." The man's thick Russian accent was getting on Cal's nerves. "I'm Maximus. You can call me Max. And my friend over there with your friend, that's Dominik. So there. Now we've met!"

"Pleasure's all mine, I'm sure," Cal sarcastically said. Realizing he had no defense but his wit, he added, "So you're just great then?"

"Excuse me?" Max inquired.

"Your name," Cal shot back. "'Maximus' means great, yeah? Maksim means greatest. Your mum must have thought you were just great. You got a brother named Maksim, Max?"

Max starred Cal down for a moment, then smiled, and yelled, "Dom!"

And with that, Dominik delivered a kick to Gillian's stomach that Cal felt across the room. He clenched his fists and told himself now was not the time to be a smartass. Maybe it was the time for mind games, but being a smartass was out of the question. At least while Gillian was still in the line of fire.

"Any more wise jokes? No? I didn't think so," Max said with venom. Then turning suddenly casual, he asked, "So how do you know the delightful Dr. Foster?"

"I think you already know that, mate, since you called my office." Cal was staring at Max, his stomach telling him something very bad was coming.

Max paused. "You seem to know about names, Dr. Lightman. Do you know what 'Alec' means?"

Cal stopped breathing and just starred. _No, no. It can't be..._

Max had hatred in his eyes and he knew he had Cal right where he wanted him. "It means 'defending men', which is quite suitable for him." Max was now looking at Gillian with his hands behind his back. He shifted his gaze to Cal's right and said, "Come out, friend."

One of the armed men stepped out of his cover of darkness. Cal tilted his head to the side with a look of mock surprise on this face as he did his best to keep his breathing even.

"Hello, Cal. Seems you're doing an excellent job taking care of my Gillian," Alec mocked when he was fully out of the cover of darkness.

"Yeah well, looks like you're taking care of her much the same as you did when you were married," Cal jabbed at him. "You set this up then?"

"What can I say?" Alec said throwing his hands out and with a huge smile on his face. "Old habits die hard, and when the boss has a problem, you try to fix it!"

Cal could only guess that the problem referred to had to do with drugs, based on Alec's history and the fact that he was flying higher than the clouds in clear sky just outside.

"What problem?" Cal inquired.

"It's simple really, Dr. Lightman," Max said as he took over the conversation. "We have a deal set up for tonight, but rumor has it there's a cop in the bunch. Might be, might not be. But the deal's too big to turn down."

"How big?" Cal asked, wondering what he was being dragged into.

"$5million." Max stated. "All I need you to do is come along, and find the cop. And that's the end of it!" Max gave him a huge smile with his last statement, acting as if it were the easiest thing in the world.

"That's it. I help you, you let us go. Why should I believe that?"

"Because you're a valuable resource for me, Dr. Lightman! I could use your help in the future. Who knows, if you do good enough, maybe I'll even cut you in on future jobs," Max offered.

_A business proposition?, _Cal thought. _This bloke is drunk with power…_

"Thanks, but no thanks," Cal replied. "You can keep your blood money."

"It's drug money Cal, not blood money," said Max, acting offended that Cal had confused the two.

"Yeah? It looks like plenty of blood's been spilled over there," Cal said pointing in Gillian's direction. "Can I go see how she's doin'? If you want me thinkin' clearly for this job, you've gotta at least gimme that."

Max stared at him for a moment, and then realizing Cal would have to be stupid to try anything said, "Fine. Go see your friend."

Cal walked as casually as possible over to where Gillian was lying on the ground, despite the fact he wanted to run. He didn't want Max to have any idea how much she meant to him, though he figured it might be a little late for that based on all his yelling earlier. Either way, there was no reason to add fuel to the fire.

When he reached her, he knelt down on the ground and pushed her hair out of her face, revealing more bruises. He felt instantly sick as he quietly asked, "How you doin', love?" When he received no response other than a few blinks of her eye, he got very anxious. "Can I move you? Try to get you up off this floor? That car's near enough. We can lean you against it. You up for it?"

Gillian let out a small grunt and nodded her head ever so slightly. Deciding it would be better to roll her away from him to avoid crushing her possibly broken arm, Cal placed a hand on the middle of her back and the other on her rib cage.

"Gimme a little help if you can, love," Cal gently requested. She twisted her legs as best she could to assist him in rolling her over, and she winced and cried in pain as Cal turned her over to her back. He noticed that after each time she reeled in pain she seemed to drift farther away and out of consciousness.

With warning, Cal said, "I'm gonna pick you up now, alright. It's gonna hurt like hell, but it'll be better in the long haul, yeah?"

Gillian was fighting back tears and clenching her jaw from pain, but she did her best to put on a brave face and be strong. He swallowed as he placed an arm under her knees and the other around her back.

As he was about to lift her, Dominik said, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Just need to get her up right, that's all. Maybe stop some of this bleeding." Cal shot him yet another deadly look with his last statement which made Dominik's lips curl into a sadistic smile. He had no doubt about the hatred Cal felt for him. You didn't need to be an expert in micro-expressions to see that.

Focusing his attention back on Gillian Cal said, "On three. One, two, three." Cal lifted her up and she screamed into his shoulder while she wrapped an arm around his neck. Staggering over to the car, Cal leaned her against the least deflated tire and gave her a look pleading for her to be strong.

"Anything broken? Anything but surface wounds?" Cal quickly asked, silently praying he could see all the damage that was done.

Still fighting back tears, Gillian simply shook her head no. After choking her tears down she murmured, "No. What you see is what you get." She tried to laugh but it came out as a half-sob.

Cal's heart swelled with pride at the strength she was putting forward. He reached for her arm and she hissed at his slightest touch. Being able to see her up close now, he could see her wounds were worse than he'd thought. Blood was trickling down from the cut above her swollen eye, and the front of her shirt was covered in blood. It was in her hair, it was in her mouth, it was everywhere. He was almost certain the gash on her cheek needed stitches, and maybe her lip too. Her arm was deep purple and in the shape of a hand. Cal's rage flared again as images of Dominik grabbing her hard enough to leave that mark entered his mind.

"How long have they had you here, love?" Cal wondered.

Gillian swallowed and replied, "Since I left at 3. What time is it?"

"Six," Cal replied.

Three fucking hours they'd been using her as a punching bag. He wanted to square off with dear ol' Dom and see how he'd fare against someone with a little more experience. Cal glanced behind him and saw a small sea of faces that showed no remorse whatsoever. All but one.

"I'm gonna get you out of here," Cal promised.

"No, Cal." She reached for him and immediately regretted the movement as she felt every muscle in her body rebel. "They'll kill you. Just do what they ask," she begged.

"And then what? Hope they're men of their word? Your ex-husband is over there. Seems he doesn't think my science is such crap after all. I don't think we've got a chance in hell here. If I can get you outta here, we'll be doin' good," Cal explained.

Confused and feeling herself start to slip away from consciousness again, Gillian only said, "What? Alec..."

Across the room Max said, "Alec, go see what's taking your friend so damn long."

When Alec approached, Gillian turned to look up at him. Her mouth dropped open, her breathing ceased, and she felt as if she were paralyzed.

Cal simply looked at her, hating Alec for what he'd gotten her into and wishing he could take away her pain. The swelling around her eye made it hard to clearly see the expressions on her face, but there was no missing all the pain, confusion, and feelings of betrayal displayed on her broken features. He looked up to see a flash of regret in Alec's eyes and decided to play on it.

"Alec. Look at me." Cal waited a moment until he was sure he had Alec's attention and then stood so Gillian couldn't hear him. He spoke softly and quickly, knowing he had little time. "If you ever loved her, if there was ever one small moment in your miserable life that you cared about her, get her out of here. We don't have to take her to the hospital, but we have to get her to someone who can."

No response, and Gillian was starting to weave in and out of consciousness again. He waited a moment more and saw Max approaching. He stepped closer to Alec and said more quietly with hatred, "She was your wife you prick. She wanted a family with you. She loved you and stood by your side as you fucked up both your lives. This is the least you can do for her. Tell him to drop her at Founder's Place and get me a phone call so she can get to a doctor."

"What the hell's going on?" Max asked angrily as he approached.

Alec looked down to see Gillian's beaten form and noticed just how pale she was. He turned toward Max and said, "She's in rough shape boss. Let's just drop her someplace and hope someone picks her up."

"You two getting all friendly or what? Why would I let her go? She's my leverage, genius! Besides, she's your ex! She made you miserable. Let her be miserable for a while!" Max said while patting Alec on the shoulder.

Cal chimed in, "As long as she's sitting here bleeding out and nearly unconscious, I'm not gonna have my mind on your job."

Max smiled and replied by saying, "Well maybe I'll just shoot her then. If she's dead, you don't have to worry about it, do you?"

Venom in his eyes, Cal stepped toward Max and said through gritted teeth, "You shoot her you might as well shoot me cuz I'm not doin' a damn thing for you then." It was then Cal began silently praying Alec hadn't mentioned Emily.

Amused at Cal's passion on the matter, Max said, "Fine. Alec, you take and dump her wherever you like."

"I'm goin' too. I'm not letting you just dump her wherever you like. She's taken care of, or shoot me now," Cal volunteered, throwing his arms out wide. "$5million is a lot of money, you said so yourself Maxie."

Max narrowed his eyes at Cal. "Duke – you go with them. Make sure they do it right!" One of the armed men stepped forward and nodded.

After loading an unconscious Gillian in the back of a van, Alec drove to Founder's Place as Cal had instructed. Duke sat in the passenger seat while Cal sat in the back doing his best to keep Gillian's limp, unconscious body from moving around too much.

When they pulled in Duke suspiciously asked, "Why this place?"

"I drive by it every day," Cal quickly said. "It's never busy, but people come and go. We'll drop her and leave before the next person walks in or out, and I know someone will eventually find her here."

Convinced, Duke simply replied, "Do it," and turned back to change the radio station.

Alec climbed out of the driver's seat to help Cal with Gillian.

"Keep your hands off her!" Cal growled. "She's got you to thank for this. Just pull out your cell and dial 853-9212 when Duke isn't looking. If someone answers, tell her to hold on for me."

With that, Cal headed for the covered entrance to the apartment building. He laid Gillian away from the door and headed back toward van, noticing on the way that Duke wasn't exactly a good watch dog. He was too busy fiddling with his firearm and smoking. When Cal reached the back of the van, Alec quickly handed him the phone and nodded.

Putting the phone to his ear and stepping behind the door so he was out of sight Cal said, "Torres, listen to me. You've gotta come down to the front of your building now. Gillian's in a bad way and she needs to get to a hospital. Don't call me back or I'll have you to thank for being dead." He said everything he needed to in 5 seconds flat, hung up, and gave the phone back. As he was climbing back in the van, he looked up to see a worried Torres looking down at him from her balcony. He gave her a look of warning and closed the door.

###############

Ria watched as the white van sped away through the parking lot. She then looked down toward the front of her building and it fully registered what Cal had said. She sprinted as fast as she could out her apartment and down the stairs. When she reached the door she gasped at what she saw. She knelt next to Gillian to check for a pulse as she dialed 9-1-1.

"I need an ambulance at 900 Maple. It's Founder's Place. A friend of mine has lost a lot of blood and she's unconscious. Yes, she has a pulse. Her face is all bruised, and she might have a broken arm."

After a few more minutes, Ria heard the sirens of the approaching ambulance. She thanked the operator, and hung up to make another phone call.

"Reynolds, it's Torres. I need your help."

* * *

**Since I didn't start watching til season 2, I obviously never got to know Alec's character. I hope this isn't too far off for him. I really don't have a firm idea of where this is going at this point, but if you find it interesting let me know and I will continue working on it.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: It seems enough people are interested in this (even if many of you are lurking!) for me to continue on with this. That being said, here's installment number 2. Enjoy!**

* * *

Hearing the seriousness in her voice, Reynolds excused himself from the agent he'd been talking to.

He took a breath, slightly annoyed, and said, "I don't know if you've heard, Torres, but thanks to Lightman's inability to do what people tell him, The Lightman Group no longer has a contract with the FBI."

"Cut the bureaucratic shit, Reynolds. I'm calling as a friend. Lightman just dropped Foster at the entrance to my building…" She paused before continuing, not exactly sure how to describe what she was looking at. "It looks like someone played target practice with their fists and her face. The ambulance just pulled up, and they're taking her to Mercy Hospital. Meet us there."

"Torres, listen to me. I'll get fired if I go near that place," Ben said under his breath.

"I'm not asking you to go to the office. It's a hospital. Lightman needs your help. If the people he's with did this to a woman, imagine what they're capable of doing to him. He's a smartass that can't keep his mouth shut to save his life. And you said it yourself, he never does what people tell him."

"Let's go miss," the paramedic called to her. "We've got to get going now."

"I have to go. Mercy in 15minutes, Reynolds," she instructed before hanging up.

Reynolds looked at his phone and saw the call was disconnected. He huffed and shook his head in exasperation, and it was in that moment he noticed Dillon watching him from across the hall.

"Something important, Agent Reynolds?" Dillon inquired as he walked toward him.

"No, sir," was all he volunteered. No reason to lie more than necessary.

"Good. You're just getting back on your feet. You need to take it easy," Dillon stated, not at all convinced that something wasn't going on with his freshly-injured agent.

"Yes, sir. I'm just going to go sit down," _in my car._ Reynolds nodded at Dillon as he casually walked away, taking the long way out so it appeared he was headed toward his office. He took the elevator on the opposite side of the building down to the parking ramp and got in his car. On his drive to the hospital, he started to wonder what exactly had happened to Gillian. All he could think about was Torres saying, 'target practice with their fists and her face.' He cringed at the thought and accelerated.

###############

In the back of the van, Cal was doing his best to push thoughts of Gillian out of his mind. There was nothing he could do for her now, and he needed to focus on getting out of this alive. On the flip side of that logic, now that he had gotten Gillian out of there, he was fairly sure he wouldn't be receiving any more assistance from Alec. Based on the information given, he was beginning to think his best chance for getting out of this was to hope for chaos to ensue when the deal went down. His mind then wandered to the cop that was supposed to be on the receiving end of the deal. Was it a dirty cop, or an undercover cop? _I could really use some help from the FBI right about now…_

The van pulled into the warehouse, and Cal felt instantly focused. He had nothing but his present circumstances to concentrate on, and his brain went into overdrive. There was an exit out the back, one at the front, and one on the east side of the building. The west side had loading docks. They were on the outskirts of downtown, so there wasn't a lot of traffic. Most of the windows near the floor were intact and painted black. The ones up higher were clear and allowed in some sunlight. He noticed a catwalk that went all the way around the perimeter of the section they were in. It was a metal mesh that you could see through. The walls were cement to match the floor, and the building all around emitted coldness. One of the two remaining armed men was only half paying attention at any given moment. The other looked trigger-happy. Even with the in-depth survey of his surroundings, he found no means of escape.

As he causally sauntered toward the middle of the room, he saw Max come out of what Cal assumed was his office.

"There!" Cal said, throwing his arms out wide and feeling a surge of adrenaline, sarcasm, and fake enthusiasm. "That wasn't so hard. And now you've got my full attention. What's on the agenda for today, Maxie?"

Max narrowed his eyes at Cal, and turned to Duke. "Where did you drop her?"

"Some apartment building," Duke mumbled.

"An apartment building! Did anyone see you?" Max asked, anger threatening to spew forward.

Cal's eyes began shifting between the two men and when Duke failed to answer quickly enough, he jumped in. "Nah, mate. It's nearly empty. I'm just hoping someone stumbles upon her before it's too late. Well, not stumbles _on _her… You know what I mean," Cal said gesturing toward Max.

He got right in Cal's face with his finger and threatened, "If I see _one_ cop, if there's any sign that you contacted someone while you were out, I'll shoot you where you stand. And then I'll hunt down Dr. Foster again and shoot her too. You got me?"

"Got it," Cal said raising his eyebrows and praying Torres heeded his warning about not calling him back.

"Good. Sit." Max commanded as he shoved Cal down on a chair. "We leave in an hour."

###############

Ben raced in through the emergency entrance and asked the nurse at the desk what room Gillian was in. He headed to the third floor where he was told she was taken and found Torres pacing in the hall.

"How is she?" he asked as he approached, feeling quaint hellos were out of place.

"I don't know yet. She's in that room over there. The doctor is checking her out," Torres said anxiously without looking away from the door and continuing to pace.

A few moments later, a man in blue scrubs walked toward them. "Are you Ms. Foster's family?" he inquired.

"We're her co-workers. I'm the one who found her," Torres responded.

"I'm Dr. Wright," the older gentleman said, looking at each of them. "She's in pretty bad shape. She's got contusions over most of her face, and several broken ribs. Her left arm is fractured, and she has a severe contusion there as well. We stitched up the lacerations on her cheek and her lip. The swelling around her eye may take several days to come down, but at least that laceration didn't need stitches. We've got her on medication to help the pain and swelling, fluids to keep her hydrated, and we gave her 2 pints of blood. She's stable, but she's drifting in and out of consciousness. There's a lot of trauma… What happened to her?"

Reynolds felt sick hearing everything the doctor just said, and Torres turned pale. She opened her mouth to speak, but he stepped in.

"I'm Special Agent Reynolds. I'm with the FBI. We're looking into what happened to Dr. Foster. We'll be sure to let you know if there is anything medically relevant when we find out. Thank you for all your help, doctor."

Concerned that no one knew exactly what had happened, Dr. Wright nodded and then added, "We'll have nurses checking on her around the clock until she's fully conscious. She needs her rest, but you can go in if you'd like."

Reynolds nodded and Torres simply said, "Thank you," with a weak smile. They walked past the nurses' station in the middle of the floor over to the closed door of Gillian's room. Torres put her hand on the handle, took a deep breath, and then quietly opened the door.

As they walked in, Torres noted to herself that at least Gillian was now in clean clothes, and they had washed all the blood off her face. The swelling looked worse, but maybe that was because the doctors and nurses had been poking and prodding and checking things out. She also noticed what she assumed was a pain medication drip being administered straight into Gillian's veins.

She looked up at Reynolds to see his jaw fully clenched and his eyes full of rage. His breathing was faster than usual and his hands were pulled into fists. He tipped his head toward the door, indicating he wanted her to step back into the hallway with him.

Once they were out and the door was once again closed he asked, "Where the hell is Lightman?"

"I don't know," Torrres responded. She then told him about the phone call and the white van.

"I see what you're thinking, Reynolds," she warned after he didn't respond to everything she'd said. "He had nothing to do with this."

Reynolds starred her down and said, "He hasn't exactly been taking care of the people close to him lately."

"Do you have any idea how guilty he felt when you got shot?" she half yelled, receiving a warning glare from the nurse. She continued more quietly, "I don't know that I've ever seen him feel that guilty. He was a mess. He considers you a friend."

He looked down at her and said, "You better be right."

"Can you honestly look at me and tell me you think he would do that to her?" she asked pointing to the door and stepping toward him. "Do you think if he had any way to stop it, that he would let that happen? There's no way. You don't need to be an expert to see how he looks at her, Ben. There's no way he was involved in this, and he had no way to stop it. He did the only thing he could which was to get her out of there."

"Either way, you wanted my help. You got it. Excuse me." He stepped further down the hallway, pulled out his cell phone and dialed Dillon.

Torres was infuriated that he would even suggest Cal had anything to do with this. She was certain he was talking out of anger and being hurt by Cal's actions causing their ties with the FBI to be severed, but that did nothing to quell her anger toward him. With a deep sigh, she went back into Gillian's room.

Ben looked back as his phone began ringing and saw her entering the room once again. He looked up to the ceiling, studying the tiles as he mumbled, "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

"Dillon," came the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Sir, it's Reynolds. I've got a situation with The Lightman Group."

"Ben, I told you. We're done there," Dillon calmly said. "Whatever it is Dr. Lightman wants you to do, simply tell him you can't."

"Dr. Lightman is missing."

There was a brief moment of silence on the other end of the line followed by, "Maybe he decided to take a vacation and straighten out his priorities."

Noting that on any other day he would have found the humor in that last statement, Reynolds said, "Dr. Foster is in the hospital. She has a fractured arm, broken ribs, an eye that's swollen shut, and more. Her face is so swollen you can hardly recognize her. Whatever Lightman is into he knew it was bad enough that he had to get her out of there, so he left her at Torres' apartment."

He went on to explain the phone call Torres had received and then said, "You have to put me on this one. I know these people better than anyone else that's qualified to work this case."

Dillon thought for several moments. When he responded he spoke in a firm voice. "I'm going against my better judgment on this, Ben. You have 24hours, not a second more. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you." And with that he hung up.

Gathering his thoughts, he went back to Gillian's room to talk more with Torres about what had happened. He got a full description of the van – white, late model Ford, no windows in the back, V1TG in the license plate – and the phone number the call from Cal had come from.

"Reynolds, I'm serious – don't call that number," Torres said. "I don't know who let him use their phone, but it had to have been someone involved or he'd be here by now."

"I won't call. I'm just going to run it to see who the number belongs to. And I'll run your partial plate too. Good job, Torres," he stated as he walked off again to make a few more phone calls.

###############

"Dr. Lightman!" Max called from his office. "Would you come in here, please?"

"Always happy to oblige, mate," Cal called, the sarcasm dripping off his words. He made his way over to the office and stood in the doorway.

Max turned the monitor of his computer so Cal could see it. There were photos of 8 men starring back at him.

"These your buyers?" Cal inquired seriously as he stepped forward.

"Yes. Get a good look at them. These are the guys you'll need to pay attention to. There will likely be several more. You know, for muscle." He paused a moment seeing that Cal was already studying the faces, and then continued while pointing at the screen.

"These two are the brains. These three are middle management. They're working their way toward the top. The other three are their main muscle." Max again stopped talking as he noticed how intently Cal was starring at the screen. "You hear all that?" he asked.

"Clear as a bell! Brains. Think they're brains. Got no brains." Cal stated with a grin as he pointed out the groups.

"Good," Max simply said. "We're loaded up. Let's go."

* * *

**Show me a little love on the way out. And while you're at it - do you guys want some Callian love in this? It seems I have a lot of different readers with this than my other stories, so I don't want to ruin it for you guys with a bunch of Callian-ness if you're not into it. Let me know in your _reeeeeviiiieeeewwww_. :p**

**(I also created a poll where you can vote, but I honestly have no idea where the poll is...so vote there if you want.)**


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